


(No) Love in an Elevator

by ladycumberbunny



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9358664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladycumberbunny/pseuds/ladycumberbunny
Summary: Molly Hopper is late for work, and it's all Sherlock's fault.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from igloocub on tumblr. The lovely forthegenuine was kind enough to beta this, so any mistakes that appear are completely my own. Enjoy!

(No) Love in an Elevator

Molly Hopper was already late for work, and judging by the way Sherlock Holmes, worlds only consulting detective, was following her so closely, she was going to be even later.   


It had all started at four o'clock that morning; a full three hours before Molly's alarm clock was due to go off. Sherlock had let himself into her flat and pushed open her bedroom door with _BANG_ and so much force that it bounced off the wall, leaving a sizable dent in the plaster.   


"Molly, I'm in need of two thumbs, preferable male. Also, it would be helpful if they came from the same male. Hurry now, Molly, a man's alibi depends on it." He said at lighting fast speed.   


"Wha-?" Molly said, rubbing her eyes at the sudden onslaught of light burning her sleepy retinas.   


"Thumbs, Molly. I need them." Sherlock replied, pulling trousers and a blouse out of her wardrobe and tossing them at her head.   


"Oomph!" Molly exclaimed when a jumper hit her in the face. She pulled the jumper off her head and pushed her sleep-tangled hair out of her eyes when she noticed Sherlock digging through the top drawer of her dresser.   


"OUT!" Molly growled. "Sherlock Holmes, get the hell out of my knicker drawer and get the hell out of my bedroom. I can get underwear for myself, for god's sake!"   


Sherlock slammed her drawer shut, straightened his Belstaff, and looked over at the now angry pathologist.   


"I'll just wait in the sitting room, shall I?" He said, his cheeks slightly pink. "Do hurry."   


Once Sherlock had slammed her bedroom door shut, Molly flopped back onto her bed with a growl. There was no getting rid of him until he had what he wanted. But that didn't mean Molly was going to rush about three hours before she was supposed to be awake either.   


She got up, gathered her clothes and headed straight for the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. Not that a lock would keep Sherlock out if he felt she was taking too long.   


After a long hot shower, Molly brushed her teeth and pulled on her clothes. She was just pulling her hair into a ponytail when she heard the bathroom door lock click.   


"If that door opens Sherlock, not only will you not get your thumbs, but you'll have a black eye to explain away as well!" She warned.   


After listening for his retreating footsteps, Molly threw her pajamas into the laundry bin, and made her way to the kitchen. As she pushed open the swinging door, Sherlock turned from the counter and pushed a hot mug into one hand, and her shoes in the other.   


"Come along, Molly." Sherlock said, grabbing her elbow and steering her towards the door. He held her coat open as she hopped around pulling her shoes on. Once she was buttoned up in her coat and her scarf wound around her neck, she grabbed her coffee and followed the tall detective down the four flights of stairs and out the front door of her building.   


Molly stood shivering in the predawn air, clutching her coffee cup, waiting for Sherlock to flag down a cab. Almost immediately, one pulled up, as if it were waiting for the tall detective to raise his arm. Opening the door and depositing a half asleep Molly inside, Sherlock climbed in, telling the cabbie to head to Bart's.   


Molly tried not to dozed in the backseat of the cab, listening to Sherlock tap away on his phone.   


"Turn around!" Sherlock suddenly barked at the cabbie, causing Molly to jump and almost drop her coffee.   


"What is it? What happened?" Molly asked, watching the detective furiously jab the screen with his thumbs.   


"Lestrade needs my help, _of course, so we need to stop off at Scotland Yard before we go to Bart's." He glanced over at Molly. "Is that a problem?"  
_

"Not like a have much choice in the matter," she mumbled, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee.   


Ten minutes later found them standing in Lestrade's office, listening to Sherlock's rapid fire deductions. Molly felt dead on her feet. She was sure she was swaying slightly, and kept rapidly blinking her eyes so they wouldn't drift shut.   


Lestrade took pity on her after a few minutes and nodded to small sofa in the corner of his office. Molly gratefully sat down, placing her bag on the floor beside her.   


_I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes,_ she thought, covering a yawn and resting her head on the back of the sofa. _Surely Sherlock will wake me up when he's done showing off..._   


* * *

  


Molly woke with a start, her face stuck to the leather seat of sofa. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, Molly looked around, trying to figure out where she was and why she was sleeping on an uncomfortable leather sofa.   


_Lestrade's office,_ she thought, digging her phone out of her bag to check the time.   


"Oh, no!" She cried, realizing that she had seven minutes to get from Scotland Yard to Bart's hospital.   


Molly grabbed her bag and looked wildly around for Greg or Sherlock, noticing them gathered around Anderson's desk.   


"Sherlock!" She gasped as she hurried up to the group. "I have to go, now!" She didn't even wait for a response from him. "I'm going to be late!" She called over her shoulder as she rushed past.   


Just as Molly burst out the doors of the station, she noticed Sherlock right behind her.   
"I'll just go with you, I'm sure Lestrade and the rest of the imbeciles can figure it out on their own now. Besides, you'll never flag down a cab in this traffic," he said, raising his arm and glancing down at her. "You're much too short."   


Molly huffed as she climbed into the cab, instructing the driver to go to Bart's.   


" _What are you doing?!_ " She exclaimed as Sherlock slid into the seat next to her.   


"I still need those thumbs." He said in an infuriatingly superior tone.   


She watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, her mouth hanging open. Sherlock looked up from his phone, quirking an eyebrow.   


"You might want to close your mouth, Molly." He said, looking back down at his phone.   
She snapped her mouth shut, but continued to glad at him. When the cab started to slow, Sherlock put his phone back in his pocket and straightened his coat, preparing to exit the cab with her.   


"Sherlock, I have to get to the lab before eight o'clock or I'm late. I don't have time to get you your damned thumbs right now!" She said, grabbing her wallet and counting out the correct amount of notes as the cab stopped in front of the hospital.   


She threw the notes into the front seat and ran towards the buildings entrance, Sherlock hot on her heels.   


The lobby was crowded, hopefully she could lose the irritating sleuth in the herds of sick people and nurses milling about.   


Molly made it to the elevator just as it was opening. Winding her way through the doctors and nurses spilling out of the open doors, she slammed the "close door" button just as she saw Sherlock striding towards her. To her dismay, Sherlock slipped inside just as the doors started to close.   


"I saw that," he sneered, reaching his long arm past her and pushing every button to every floor.   


"Why would you do that?! I'm already late!" Molly shrieked angrily, turning to glare at him.   


"You tried to make the doors close before I could get in the elevator. That was rude. So now, you will most certainly be late to the lab." He said with a devilish half grin.   


"You absolute git!" She growled. "Now you are going to have to wait even longer to get your bloody thumbs!"   


Molly felt a little rush of satisfaction as she saw his face go blank for a moment, only to be replaced by a scowl.   


"Didn't think that one through very well, did you?" She asked, turning back to watch the little floor number display above the buttons.   


Sherlock just rolled his eyes and then sighed as he noticed the elevator going _up_ instead of _down_ towards the basement.   


After ten minutes and four floors later, Sherlock started tapping his foot, clearly agitated that his plan backfired. He kept shooting angry looks Molly's way, irritated that she was ignoring him.   


"Stop giving me those angry looks, Sherlock Holmes." She said, still watching the floor display numbers slowly getting smaller as the elevator made its way towards the basement. "This is, after all, your fault."   


"I don't see how that's true," he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.   


Molly continued to ignore him as the elevator stopped on every floor, letting nurses, doctors and patients on and off. When it finally reached the basement morgue, Molly hurried down the hall to her office, shutting and locking the door quickly before Sherlock could slip inside.   


"Are you really locking me out of your office, Molly?" He asked glaring at her through the small window set into the office door.   


"Yeah, I am. You are just going to have to wait patiently for me to get caught up before I can make time to get you the bloody thumbs." She said, dropping her bag beside her desk and starting up her computer.   


"You can't just lock me out, Molly," Sherlock said, dropping his voice an octave, his mouth quirking up into a half grin.   


"Flirting will not work this morning Sherlock. I'm tired from being woken up at an ungodly hour this morning, sore from falling asleep on that tiny, broken down sofa in Greg's office, and _pissed_ because _you_ made me even more late than I already was with your childish behavior in the elevator!" She said, her voice getting louder until it was a shout by the end of her rant.   


"But I _need those thumbs!_ " Sherlock whined, dropping his flirtatious attitude at once. "Come on, Molly! Be sensible! Don't act like this!"   


"You started _this_ , Sherlock! Go home and come back around noon." She said, dropping down into her desk chair and pulling a handful of files towards her. She heard the lab door slam a few moments later. With a sigh, Molly laid her head on her desk.   


"Sherock Holmes will be the death of me," she muttered, opening a file to begin work for the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Thank you igloocub for the fun idea, I had a blast writing this! Also huge thank you to forthegenuine on tumblr for being such a fantastic beta!


End file.
